


Eight Years Later

by Jathis



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol, Ancient Rome, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: When Crowley closes his eyes, he can still see the execution taking place.





	Eight Years Later

_ You’re going to die. _

_ I know. _

_ It’s going to be painful. Humans always come up with the most painful ways of killing each other. _

_ I know. _

_ Then why..? _

_ Because I have to. _

There was too much seawater mixed into the wine at the tavern here but he continued to drink it anyway. The idea of sobering up was far from appealing to him and badly mixed wine was better than no wine at all. He absently flicked his wrist, dropping more coins onto the counter to keep the wine coming.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the execution as clear as if it had just happened. Eight years was a long time for humans but for a demon...it might as well have been yesterday. Rome was still thriving, people continued to live their lives, and it seemed like the ones who had been with Him had hidden themselves with their tails between their legs.

He was irritated at first when Aziraphale started to talk to him. How could he act like nothing had happened? Like he hadn’t been there when God’s Son was nailed to a piece of wood in front of a jeering crowd. The thought made him snap at him at first, in no mood for any attempts at levity. 

Crowley told himself that he accepted Aziraphale’s offer because it meant free food and more wine. He wasn’t lonely. He was most assuredly  _ not  _ upset about the death of that Man either. He wanted the free food, that was it.

He let the angel do most of the talking as he ate and drank. He swallowed several of the oysters whole, shell and all, before Aziraphale showed him how he was supposed to eat them. He mumbled absently about waste but he had to agree that they tasted better out of the shells.

Aziraphale was startled into silence when he heard Crowley choke back a sob. The demon had been listening to him for several hours now and he hadn’t noticed him getting upset. Without thinking he placed a hand on his shoulder, tilting his head at the other. “Crowley? Crowley, what’s wrong?”

He grit his teeth, rubbing at his face with a hand. He was grateful for the invention of these eye coverings with the blackened glass. He didn’t think he would be able to handle the angel seeing actual tears in his eyes. “If...if I had a son...I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him,” he mumbled.

His expression softened in understanding then and he nodded, allowing the other to lean against him. “Neither would I,” he whispered.


End file.
